


We are the London Reaper Dispatch Association

by Nimbus_Cloud



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/M, Grim Reapers, M/M, Shinigami
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2016-03-04
Packaged: 2018-05-14 17:32:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 12,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5752039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nimbus_Cloud/pseuds/Nimbus_Cloud
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of short drabbles that I've written over the years pertaining to our favorite reapers~  They were previously scattered about on Tumblr between two different accounts, but I wanted to consolidate them all in one place.  </p><p>Grelliam and Slingphries are the main pairings, but there are other platonic relationships included.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. “I’m going to need you to put on some underwear before you say anything else.“

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Grelliam Tumblr prompt

“This can’t possibly be within the standard rule-book,” William grumbled as he unwound his meticulously knotted Windsor and placed his tie neatly on the table.  "Even humans would find such humiliation distasteful, surely.“

“First of all, the whole of human history should inform you that humiliation ranks distinctively high on their preferred list of enjoyments.  And second, I’m surprised you’re not better at this.  You have, my darling, the definition of a default poker expression.” She winked as she reshuffled the deck of cards, her long fingers gracefully dealing out a new third street for each of them.

“I should blame it on your rather queer rules.”

“Well the standard rulebook is much too boring when money means not a thing!” She placed the deck in the center of the table before delicately pulling on her ribbon.  "My bet.“

William eyed her upturned queen of hearts and his own two of clubs and peeked to see his holecards.  A six of diamonds and a ten of hearts.  Nothing enormously helpful, but he couldn’t perpetually fold.  He touched his cufflinks to indicate his bet.

Grell gave a teasing bat of her eyelashes before clicking her heels together to up the ante.  

Several hands later, a stark naked director of London reaper dispatch stood fuming beside her poker table.  

“Well I hardly see the point in continuing, as I’ve clearly lost and been made a fool of.”

“Mmm… but… now would be the perfect time for you to make a come… back.” Grell bit her tongue, looking anywhere but at his face.

“Is there a point in playing until we’re both bare as babes?  The victor’s decided.”

Grell gave no response but a soft moan as William shifted his weight and crossed his arms.  

“Grell Sutcliff, are you even listening to me?”  He wasn’t entirely what one would call bashful, but he unfolded his arms to cover himself in an attempt to get some modicum of attention from the redhead.

“Oh I’m sorry darling, but if you want me to pay attention, you’re going to need to get dressed first.”  But as the dear man began reaching for his trousers, she stood immediately and stayed his wrists.  “Or… you could remain decidedly undressed… and I’ll give you my undivided attention, I promise.”  


	2. To Baden Baden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the wake of Chapter 105, it was imperative that a Grelliam interlude at Baden Baden be written.
> 
> Grelliam as an established couple, no smut, just sass.

“I mean we’re already away and it’s on our way back anyhow what difference does it make if we pop in for a night?” Grell pouted, kicking at the dirt and rubble lightly with the toe of her heels.  Just enough to kick up some earth but not enough to scuff her shoes.  Really, it was the perfect opportunity if only Will would dig down and find his sense of adventure.

“The matter is not up for discussion, and certainly not within earshot of our German comrades.”  William’s answer was stiff and firm and as cold as ever.  But thankfully his scythe remained firmly stowed away.

“They’re not within earshot anymore though…” She pressed, sneaking a glance over her shoulder at the retreating figures crouched by the train tracks.  "Speaking of which, I thought the taller one much like you in a way.  Interesting lot.  Sascha and I might even get on… Except for the bit about… Being dedicated to the work.“

"I shudder to think of the international debacle you’d cause if I let you loose into other branches.”

“I think I’d fit right in anywhere!  I am a top rate actress after all…” she threw up her arm and flicked her wrist, shooting William her most charming wink.

“You’re a second class reaper at best.”

Her toes ran into a stubborn patch of rock and she fell over instantly, her pride shattered more by William’s icy comment than the humbling earth.

“So _cold_ … But contrary to what you might think, I rather enjoy being a reaper.  It’s far more preferable than being a human, in any case.”

“It behooves me to remind you we were human once, all of us.”   _And in any case, that’s only the current mood,_ William thought.  Grell’s stint as Jack the Ripper had shown just how much regard the red reaper held for the responsibilities and rules of their station.

“Well it’s no wonder we ended up here.  If I were reincarnated human I might very well off myself again.”

“I thought you found the human world fascinating?”

“Aspects of it.  The entertainment, the fashion… The gaudier, _bawdier_ side of things.  But to live among them… Too constricting.”

Will gave her a curious glance then, as if he were evaluating some quality about her.  Or as if he were trying to peer into her very soul and lay it bare to determine what about her was truth and what was fancy. It rather sent a chill up her spine to have him look at her so intensely like that.

“Was your ruse… That ridiculous foray as a human butler to that red woman… Was that some homage to your mortal self?”

It shocked her to even imagine he would ask her such a probing question.  It was so unlike him to ask after her in any way, so convinced he was that anything worth telling should be shared without inquiry.  And no one wanted to commit Madam Red to past memory more than William, and yet…

“Well… No… I–Will darling, none of us remember what our lives were. And our names and appearances are unchanged besides… Except our eyes, of course.”

“You’ve changed your appearance within capability.  That frightful shade of red is not your natural color Grell Sutc–”

She clapped her perfectly manicured fingers over his mouth immediately.

“Don’t you dare say it aloud!  I’m a red woman through and through!”  

William kicked her shin to remove her hand from his face but obliged the requested silence.  Though he now felt quite sure that Grell’s butler shade of brown was the closest he’d ever come to seeing her natural color.  

It was still an interesting thought exercise… To imagine a human Grell bound by their rules and customs and perhaps lacking her extraordinary strength.  Would a mortal Grell Sutcliff love poetry and the limelight of theater or be so enamored with danger and destruction?

“For heaven’s sake Will, it’s rude to stare.”

“You stare at me all the time.”

“Yes… Well.  I rather like the view.” She winked and William coughed.  "Are you still thinking about what I was like as a human?“

"An irrelevant question–”

“You must have been exactly the same as you are now, I imagine…” She sighed wistfully, playing with the ends of her fringe and thinking back to their final exam and first night.  She loved the clean, combed back hair he wore now, but she did also miss that tousled bedhead. She wondered which version he had preferred as a human.  "Say Will…“

"You said it yourself, our memories were wiped; I could tell you no more about my human life than you could about yours.”

“No not that. But I was just thinking… We were classmates in the academy.”

“An astute observation as always.  Next you’ll be telling me that we’re not in London at all, and that this is in fact Germany.”

“So we must have died at roughly the same time…”

“…yes I suppose.” He had never given that any thought previously.

“I wonder if we knew each other before.”

“…”

“Perhaps we were star-crossed lovers like Romeo and Juliet, ooh, can you imagine!”

“I absolutely cannot imagine that.”

“Maybe we made a suicide pact and took our lives together! Oh, how positively romantic!”

“Exactly when do you plan on extracting your head from the clouds?”

“Oh, William… Imagine if we took our lives because of each other, I just knew we were meant to be!  This is what the poets call destiny!  I can just see it now… Our families forbade us from being together.  Maybe it was status. Or money…”

 _Or because you’re not exactly a woman…_ William added mentally.

“In our despair we’d find a way to leave this world together. You’d confess your undying love to me and promise that you’ll search for me in our next life.  That you won’t rest until you find me and until we can be together again in the afterlife and every life after that…”

“I can’t imagine my mortal self saying or doing anything of the sort–”

“You’d _promise_ , Will.  You’d swear to find me… And take me to Baden Baden.”

“Is that what this all leads to?!”

“Pleeeease, Will?  I’ve been ever so good!”

Without a word he checked his ledger and his watch.  They were in fact, making good time thanks to the punctuality of both parties.  And… Well.  Grell was deplorably right and it was not out of the way for their return journey.  Mingling among the humans would be a tiresome affair, but unlike the circus affair, he had marginally better company.  Marginally.

“Speak not a word of it to the general.”

“Truly?  Oh, Will darling!” She flung her arms around his neck and planted a red red kiss upon his cheek before skipping on ahead, giggling gleefully.  

No doubt office tongues would wag within hours of their return.


	3. Toward Redemption - Eric Slingby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post Chapter 105
> 
> A reaper origin story for Eric Slingby

“Do not be alarmed.”

Eric furrowed his brows and squinted at the three standing over his bed, clad head to toe in black, the lenses of their glasses eerily reflecting the bright light around them.  Not doctors, not morticians… Who were they?  Where was he?

“Where am I?”

“Do you remember how you got here?”

“No–”

“Try.”

Briefly he wondered if he had had far too much to drink the night before, or if this was still a dream.  But his dreams were never this bright, and he was far too sober.

“Look–”

“You brought yourself here, make no mistake.  You need only remember how.”

“Do I owe you blokes money?”  

Debt collectors were such a persistent lot.  He had enough experience to know that they weren’t to be crossed, but these gentlemen didn’t quite give off the same feeling.  Less hostility, more… Business.  

“Think back to the previous day.”

“Mate, I can’t think back to the previous week.  This is the first time I’ve been sober in… God I dunno.  So why don’t you make this quick, tell me what you want, I’ll see what I can do, and we can all be on our merry way.”

“These new human drugs make it a bit difficult in cases such as these.  I doubt we could stir him to remember unless we played his own cinematic record back to him.”

“And even then he may remember little if he spent most of his days with his mind compromised.”

Eric listened to them mutter between themselves and instead examined his surroundings.  They were too clean and bright to be a drug den, but hospitals were never this… Quiet.  Not to mention the room held no door, no window, no entrance or exit as far as he could see. There was merely the bed, himself, and the three men clothed in black.  If he had truly brought himself to that place as they had said, he must have been very high indeed for he remembered nothing.  Then again, he remembered very few details of his life in general after he fell into opium.  It surprised him to realize that he didn’t feel an intense craving for more.  Moments of sobriety didn’t last long before his body demanded more numbing and punished him for not receiving it.

“Do you remember your name?”

“Slingby.  Eric Slingby.”

“Your occupation?”

“Police.  Well, I say that but…”

“What is the last thing you remember?”

“If you’re gonna kill me, just be done with it.”  

“Do you value your life so little?”

“Sure.”

“It may be quicker to simply proceed.” One of them joined the conversation, insistent to end the fruitless line of questioning.

“Very well.  Eric Slingby, though you do not remember it, you have forfeited the life which you were bestowed.  As punishment, you will serve–”

“You’re saying I’m _dead_?”

“That is correct.”

“And I’m the one that did myself in?”

“Yes.”

“Bugger.  Still.  Can’t say I’m all that surprised.”

“We shall take what little memory you have of your mortal life, and reset your soul to prepare you for your duties as a reaper.”

“The work goes on even in death, eh?”

“For those who’ve committed the  sin you have, yes.  Until the time of your redemption, if it is to be had, you will serve.”

“Fine.  Can’t say I’ll do a much better job at this than what I did while alive.”

“It is true in essence you will be the same even without memory.  And it seems the man you are at heart is an apathetic one.  But destiny is a peculiar thing.  Perhaps you will find something that instills a passion in you in this second existence.”

“Suppose I’ll try to keep an open mind then.”

“Close your eyes now.”

All his life, he had sought nothingness and an escape.  Reality was far too cruel and what wasn’t cruel was ever so dull.  From his passivity he was made to feel an unimaginable pain for his transition, his reaper eyes burning into place as his mortal eyes dissolved away.

He woke up a new man in that bright white room.

“Eric Slingby.” They called him.

He was a reaper he knew.

“Tomorrow you shall begin your training at the Academy and in that bag you will find your papers and your suit.”

He knew he had been reset as all humans are in the process of becoming Death but he felt it–a peculiar weight on his soul.  The weight of sin.

“Did I do something awful as a man?”

“Why would we tell you after going through the trouble of making sure you won’t remember?”

“I just–feel… I feel a bit guilty is all.”

“The same guilt all reapers might feel knowing how they came to be.  Some more than others.  But what matters now is that you are reborn, and the work you do from this day forth is toward redemption.”

“Do you think redemption is possible for me?”

“If you follow our tenets and do your duty with pride.  These are your trainee glasses.  Your first pair of lenses as a reaper.  And a reaper’s glasses are tremendously important.  Begin with a healthy respect for these, and the way will not be lost to you.”


	4. Godspeed, William T. Spears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post Chapter 105
> 
> Reaper Origin Story for William T. Spears

Waking up, he found several bespectacled men peering down at him, scribbling away on dark clipboards and wearing fashions he had never seen.  He was lying down somewhere… The walls pristinely white and undecorated.

“Do not be alarmed.” One of the men said to him.

Oddly enough, he wasn’t.  Despite not knowing where he was and who these men were and how he had ended up in this… Room… This bizarrely white room… He felt only a dull silence.  And no fear.

“Do you remember what happened to you?”

There was a flash of red in his mind’s eye.  A cold winter night.  He had been cold, so cold… But he remembered not how he had come to be there.

"No,” he answered.

“Try.”

It was too bright.  He closed his eyes to attempt concentration.  What had he been doing the day before?  

Running.  He recalled running.  Panting frantically, he was not a particularly athletic man.  Why was he running?    
He was late.  Someone was waiting.  Someone important.    
A sad smile.  A friend?  No, a lover.  He was running to her.  Him?  No, a lover could only be a woman.  But he hesitated.  Why?  Why did that sound so queer?

Red.  Blood.  The freezing winter cold burning his lungs… And falling through it.  The memories were a flash and a haze.  But he understood.

“I fell.” He murmured.

“You jumped.” One corrected.

“I _died_.”

“You chose to end your own life.” The same one corrected him a second time.

“Is this hell?” For some reason he knew heaven’s gates would be barred to him.    
“Neither heaven nor hell.  You are not bound for such places.”

“What will happen to me?”

“You have forsaken the life bestowed upon you, and as punishment shall serve as a servant of the death you valued more than your mortal existence.”

“A reaper you shall be.  Forced to preside over the deaths of the living and pass judgment on their souls.  You shall do this for as long as it takes for your soul to find redemption.”

“Redemption?”

“If it is to be had.”

“Do you understand your fate as thus we have presented it?”

“…yes.”

“Your memories will be taken.  Your soul reset.”

“I won’t remember who I was?  My family, my beloved?”

“It is better this way.  But even with memories taken, a soul is unique.  In manner you will be the man you were in life.”

“But your heart steeled.”

“I died for him…” He whispered softly.

“A futile effort.”

“Do you remember your name?”

“William.  William T. Spears.”

“And the T?”

“I don’t quite recall.”

“Your name only shall you retain.”

Then one of them reached out his hand across his face, laying his fingers gently over his eyes.  William felt his eyes burn and melt away, his life flashing and fading in his mind, disappearing into a darkness he could not fathom.  To call it agony would be to undermine the horridness of that pain.  Some feeble corner of his mind tried to hold on, to not forget all that he had been, all that he had done, but it was smoke through his fingers.  The more he tried to secure a thought, the faster it dissipated—he forgot faster than he could remember what he was trying to retain.  Even his most beloved person was taken from his mind in a flash… of pitiable red.

As his eyes reconstituted beneath the searing touch of the arbiter, he knew only two things.

His name was William T. Spears.  And he was a reaper of souls.

A pair of flimsy round glasses were passed to him as he opened his now-green eyes.

“Good morning, William.”

“Good morning.”

“Tomorrow you will begin your training at the academy.  In that bag, you will find your papers.  And your suit.”  He gestured to a suitcase at the foot of his bed.  "Godspeed, William T. Spears.“


	5. Good Morning, Grell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post Chapter 105
> 
> Reaper Origin Story for Grell

She awoke with a start in a pristinely white room, fingers clutching at the sheets, her breath hard in her throat.  Three men she did not know stood by, scribbling into their clipboards and paying little to no attention to her distress.

“Where am I?” She demanded.

“Do not be alarmed.”

“Is this a hospital?” She feared hospitals most, terrified that they would realize her hysteria, that they would lock her away for the rest of her days, torturing a ‘cure’ into her or otherwise leaving her to rot.

“It is not.  Do you remember what happened to you?”

Her eyes flew immediately to her wrist.  Why?  There was nothing there. 

But.

But there should be.  She ran the fingers of her right hand gently over the unbroken skin and remembered.  In despair, utter despair over the body she could not have, the life she would never have with the man of her dreams… 

“I slit my wrist.” She remembered pools of red and a cold sleep.

“You chose to end your own life.”

“So… I’m dead.  And you are the face of death come to sentence me?”

“Correct.  You have forsaken the life bestowed upon you and as punish—”

“It was a cruel life!” She cried, clutching her chest.  "Given to me by a wretched God who saw fit to place a woman’s mind into the body of a man.  In a world that forbade me the man I love and the life I truly wanted.  Yes, I forsook that pitiful existence!“

"This is not a trial.  Your soul has already been judged and your explanations are unnecessary.  As punishment, you shall serve death as its hands, presiding over the deaths of mortals.”

“You would have _me_ look upon the precious souls of the living?” She scoffed.  "I would be a merciless arbiter.  I cannot let go this envy, this rage.“

"You shall forget such trivial things.”

“F-forget?”

“Your memories will be taken, your soul reset.”

“I refuse.”

“You have no choice.  It is better this way.”

“Without my memories, what would I be?  A mere shell of my former self!  To make me forget my sorrow, my beloved—”

“The soul remembers what the body does not.  In manner, you will be the man you were in life.”

“And if I were not a man at all?”

“Your essence is unchanged.  Merely hardened, to face the death you must witness day by day from now until your redemption.”

“Will I be given a new body?” She whispered feebly as one of them pressed lightly into her shoulder to lay her back down.

“Close your eyes. _Death_ need not concern itself with such things.  Your name you shall retain, no more.”

A gentle hand came to rest softly upon her eyelids, the only tenderness she had known… Until a blinding pain gripped her, her mortal eyes dissolving away and taking with them the horrid memories of the life she had led.  Only a pale shadow of her sorrow and rage would remain, imbedded so deep in her heart as it was.  She had time only for a single tear as the face of her beloved graced her mind’s eye before he too, was taken.

Blinking away the tear on his face as he opened his now green eyes, he awoke knowing only three things.

His name was Grell Sutcliff, he was a reaper of death, and he was deeply, maddeningly unsatisfied.

“Good morning, Grell.”

He gave no answer.

“Tomorrow you shall begin your training at the academy.  In that bag you will find your papers and your suit." 

Grell was then passed a pair of flimsy round frames, which he took with a scoff.

"How dull…”


	6. Close your eyes, Ronald Knox

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post Chapter 105
> 
> Reaper Origin Story for Ronald Knox

“Waking up to three blokes standing over my bed isn’t really what a man wants to see first thing in the morning.” He groaned, rolling over and pulling himself to a sitting position.

“Do not be alarmed.”

“What’s that you’re wearing?  I’ve never seen clothes like that, no sir.  Then again,” he laughed, grabbing at his own rags.  "I’ve really only seen threads like these.“

"Do you remember what happened to you?”

“You mean… How I got here?  Can’t say I do.”

“Try.”

“Well hang on, you brought me here so why’s it up to me to explain?”

“You brought yourself here, make no mistake.”

“I was with my mates, we—”

Pictures flashed suddenly through his mind.  Laughing, he was.  It was only a bit of harmless fun.  Just some street urchins playing pranks.  But old man Higgins… Cranky old codger… He’d had enough.  And they had always known he was a little off his rocker but to think—

A shot reverberated in his ears and he clapped his hands over them to keep out the sound.  It didn’t help.

Rick… He fell over… There was blood and… And he couldn’t do nothing and… And Higgins was the one did it and…

“I didn’t mean to kill him…” He whispered.  "It’s cause he shot Rick, I just—"

“Murder of old man Higgins is not what brought you to us.  Though that too is a grave crime and will extend your sentence.”

Murder.  That’s right.  He was a murderer now.  But he hadn’t meant to do it… It was an accident, and then… And then everyone was making such a fuss and he got scared and the gun was right there and…

“Yeah.” He brought his fingers to his forehead, where there should’ve been a bullet hole.  "Yeah ok.  Well… What’s one less bastard kid off the streets?“ 

"You have forsaken the life bestowed upon you.  As punishment, you will serve as a reaper until such time as your redemption can be found.”

“And you already said that’d be a good long while, yeah?”

“Correct.”

“And… if I do this… if I’m a reaper, will I look all fancy and proper like you?”

“You are required to wear the standard uniform, yes.”

“You sure it’s ok using a murdering brat like me to judge dying folk?”

“Your memories will be taken, your soul reset.  Without memory of the crime, what is there to make you a criminal?”

“I won’t… Remember?  Nothing?”

“It is better this way.”

“Your name only will you keep.”

“Ronald Knox that is…” He murmured, feeling a nervousness sink his stomach as they made him to lie down on the bed.  

“Close your eyes, Ronald Knox.”

A hand came to gently rest upon them and an instant later, he recalled the split second of pain from when he had shot the bullet into his brain.  He screamed as he was made to feel the searing pain of it breaking his skin and boring its way through his skull before it spiraled through the soft tissue of his brain.  And as he felt the bullet blowing out the back of his skull, it took with it his eyes, and all the memories of his pathetic street rat life.

He awoke moments later, wiping at his bleary green eyes and yawning as if waking from a long and comfortable nap.  

From that nap, he awoke as Ronald Knox, a reaper of death, still itching to have some fun and get what enjoyment he could out of whatever existence.  

“Good morning, Ronald.”

“Mornin’ guv’na.”

“If you could possibly embrace the solemnity of this moment, it would benefit you to know that your training at the Academy begins tomorrow, and in that bag you will find your papers and your suit.”

“My own proper suit?”  

“And these are your trainee glasses.”  

“Bit plain.  Think I want something a bit—“

“Dismissed.”  


	7. You'll do fine, Alan Humphries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post Chapter 105
> 
> Reaper Origin Story for Alan Humphries

At first, he feared he’d woken up again…that he was back in his hospital bed staring at the bloody ceiling counting the minutes until his last breath and spending every second in agony.

 _I was supposed to have ended it._  

But the fear soon passed—the fear that he was still alive—as he registered the men staring down at him.  These were not nurses or doctors come to poke and prod.  And where he lay was no hospital bed.  It was too clean and too devoid of other sick people nearby.  He let out a slow wary breath and realized his chest felt clearer than he’d ever felt it.

He was… Better.

“Do not be alarmed.”

“Have I died?” He asked them, hope swelling.

“You’ve brought yourself here before us, after ending your own life.”

Of course there were any number of poisons held within a hospital if one knew where to look.  A generous dosage of a soothing elixir could ease anyone’s pain and their way to the grave.  It was the doctors’ struggle to try and keep him alive, but it was far easier to die.

“Do you remember what happened?”

“I was sick.  I was going to die in pain and agony they told me.  They said they would try to ease my passing and told my family to say their goodbyes.  But I didn’t have the heart to hear them.” _And I had not the courage to withstand any more._

It was his one regret, to cause his family that suffering, yet if the clock could be rewound, still he would have done it again.

“Death comes to all.  But you chose instead to come to Death.  You have forsaken the life which you were bestowed.”

“That was no life.  It was a limbo.  There is not one who would call that existence living.  I chose to end my sickness.”

“And the punishment for that is servitude.  Since death is what you seek, you shall witness it every day as you serve your role as a reaper.”

“Your memories will be taken, your soul reset.”

“Then I shall have no memory of my prior sufferings?”

“None but the memory of your name.”

“Then that is a kindness you grant me.  I want nothing more than to leave such dark haunting thoughts behind me.”

“Many in your position have thought the same.  Having spent much time on the edge of life, death and its consequences mean little.”

“Have you a wish to discard your name as well, Alan Humphries?”

“That is not a name that shone any light to one living.  Without my memories of life, the name means little.  I do not mind retaining it.”

A gentle hand closed and covered his eyes.

“Then your name only shall you keep.”

And then a searing pain hit him, a pain he had never known despite his illness, a pain he could not call familiar.  He screamed as he felt his eyes melt away behind his eyelids and reform.  The visions of his time spent on earth flew swiftly by and he spared no effort to keep any of it.  And with every memory of his sickly life dissipated, the lighter his heart grew.

When he awoke, he knew his name, Alan Humphries, he knew he was a reaper of death, and that this was the best he had ever felt.  

“Good morning, Alan.”

“Good morning to you.” He smiled.  He briefly wondered if that was a strange thing to do.  It felt queer, as if he had not ever smiled in all his life, but he was only born moments ago.  He rather liked the feeling.  

“Tomorrow you will begin your training at the academy.  In that bag you will find your papers and your suit.  These are your trainee spectacles.”

He took them graciously and held them to his chest as if they were sacred.

“Will I do well?”

“You embrace _Death_ gladly, therefore there is little doubt.”


	8. Music to my Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Orchestra player/pianist and concertgoer AU 
> 
> Grelliam

Having a membership to the Royal Opera House was one of the few luxuries William partook in.  Provided that the shows were good, the cost of the membership more than paid for itself along the way.  He made an effort to sample a wide variety of shows, but many of the modern composers were too avant-garde for his taste, and he always favored a classic opera over a modern musical. 

But a good pianist was the height of musical delight to his ears, so he had naturally procured tickets to listen to Grell Sutcliff play.  Not that he’d ever heard her play; top rank pianists all started to blend together in the end.  Chopin was Chopin; so long as they weren’t still learning their scales, Freire didn’t sound all that different from Brendel.  The program promised a blend of classical music and jazz, and featuring original compositions from the player herself.  He didn’t hold out much hope for those, but an evening spent listening to live Schubert was better than not. 

What he discovered, however, was a master in her own right.  Young, perhaps, to be considered a virtuosa by definition, but it had been a very long time since last he was moved in his heart by the ringing tones of a grand piano.  She played with such profound feeling, her fingers gliding over the keys almost ethereally.  It was chaotic and sad, troubled and morose and just when it seemed the music would give in to endless despair, notes of hope made their crescendo to a zenith of… what, he wasn’t sure. 

He gave her a standing ovation that night along with the crowd, then proceeded to buy a third row seat for the next night. 

And at the end of the second night, he bought a ticket for a third.

And at the end of the third night, he bought a ticket for a fourth. 

On the fourth night, he brought a bouquet of roses for the theater staff to deliver backstage to her. 

He had also begun to notice the nuances with which she played each piece.  And the fact that her concert attire was always red to match her flaming red hair.  He was almost certain that couldn’t have been a natural color, but if anyone were to have it, he was sure it would be her.   

On the fifth night, he brought her another bouquet with a card that asked a simple question: _What do you feel when you’re playing the final notes of your music?  What theme is hidden there in the melody?_

As he was leaving that night, he received a complimentary ticket for the next night’s performance, imprinted with a crimson kiss and with an elegant scribble that read: _Come again tomorrow and I’ll tell you~_


	9. Makeup and Misery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hair stylist/Make up artist and actor/model AU: the go-to makeup artist of the Haute Couture season, Grell, and the tall, cold Germanic model William
> 
> This drabble actually spawned a few drabbles going back and forth between myself and archadianskies, but it's a bit... shall we say, unfinished. Since I wrote the first part to stand alone to begin with, it's posted in this drabble collection, but maybe it'll be moved out into its own separate fic.

“Lagerfeld is up in an hour, you’ve got the menswear lineup of models.  They’ll be there in a few minutes, so you might wanna get ready if you’re not ready already,” piped a voice into her headset. 

“Ronald, darling, whenever am I _not_ ready?” 

“You do occasionally break to powder your nose,”

“Rouge my lips, dear,” she corrected.  “Any tasties for me this season?” 

“Mostly the same faces as last year, but there are two new ones, so you might have some luck there.”

“Describe them to me,” she checked her nails before crossing her legs in her chair, eagerly anticipating the coming narrative. 

“Okay, um, well… one of them is like tall—well, they’re all tall really so… um.  Okay, black hair, green eyes, kind of… he looks like a sort of stick in the mud, to be completely honest.  Doesn’t talk much…”

“Ugh, he sounds like a bore.  Next one then.”  She flicked a speck of dust off of her knee. 

“Okay, now this next guy looks like a bit of a rocker.  Hair is blond and black, kind of like mine, but split vertically down the middle instead of top and bottom, the black side is braided and he’s got a light amount of facial hair.”

“Mm… he _does_ sound positively yummy.  What’s his name?”

“Uhh… William T. Spears oh!  Gotta go!  Good luck!” The com buzzed off on the other end, and Grell bounced off of her chair with a flourish.  The Lagerfeld boys were always so handsome, she _loved_ working with them.    

She made sure to save the newbies for last.  She wanted more time with this William, and senior models always demanded to be serviced first anyhow.  Touchy, over-preened peacocks, the whole lot of them, which was why she preferred them new and fresh.  It was always better to get to them before the industry corrupted them too much. 

Ronald had described them rather aptly.  The dark-haired one sat so straight up in his chair she was sure he had an invisible pole strapped to his back somewhere underneath his suit.  The other one leaned comfortably back into his seat, legs sprawled and a confident smirk on his face.  Rocker, indeed.  Her eyes met with his and he gave her a wink before sitting up ever so slightly. 

“Are you the beauty who’s gonna pretty us up then?” 

“Patience, William,” she giggled.  “I’ll work on your friend first.” 

“Excuse me?”  The straight-backed one spoke, and the rockstar let out a laugh. 

“Got us mixed up there, miss.  _He’s_ William,” he gestured with his thumb. 

“I—oh.  My apologies,” she smiled nervously.  _Ronald, darling, I’m going to kill you._   Most likely he had read the names in the wrong order from his clipboard, but that was no excuse for causing her such embarrassment.  “Well, then.  William, you’ll be first.” 

Everything about him screamed _sharp_.  From top to bottom, he was straight lines everywhere, even his cheekbones were beautifully well-defined.  Sharp as he was, she decided to accentuate it even more.  As she began brushing on his primer, she took careful note of his overall facial structure.  Those cheekbones were a little bit higher than she was used to, and his eyes slanted upward at the ends.  His name held no giveaways but,

“Are you… 100% German, William?” she ventured. 

“My mother is Japanese,” he replied curtly. 

Well that explained the cheekbones and the eyes, she thought.  And also the stick up the arse. 

“I had thought so.  I don’t get very many Asian men coming my way you know.  It’s a real pity; I do find them _quite_ handsome.” 

Choosing a foundation for him was easy enough, and contouring him was like coloring inside the lines of a children’s playbook.  But his eyes, oh, what to do with the eyes.  Truth be told, she had never worked with monolidded eyes before, and she was a little frustrated with herself for not knowing what to do without an epicanthic fold. 

_Hmm…_

“Are you having trouble with my eyes?” he looked at her with his deep green orbs and she felt her confidence wane. 

_Oh, now, that’s just unfair.  You can’t look at me like that or I’ll just be smitten with you, William._

Something in that cold, piercing gaze was making her knees grow weak.  And even though he wasn’t at all her type compared to blond, not-actually-William, she found an odd sort of desire blossoming. 

“Well…” she hesitated.  “As I’ve said, I don’t get very many Asian men coming my way.  I’ll admit I’ve not really gotten much practice with your particular eye shape.” 

“On-stage in fifteen!”  came Ronnie’s voice from her headset. 

_Oh, bugger._

“I’ll come back for you,” she promised before dashing over to not-William and speeding into his makeup. 

She could risk leaving one model unfinished, but she couldn’t risk having one without any makeup at all.  The only problem would be what to do with William’s eyes once she had finished the blondie in front of her, whose face was practically textbook for make-up artists.  Strong, chiseled jaw, jutting browline, defined cheekbones, and a broad nose bridge.  Almost boring, actually. 

“Okay, five minutes!  Everyone needs to make their way over to the stage!” 

_Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck…_

“William!” she grabbed his wrist as he removed his salon cape and stood.  “I’m so sorry, I—“ the last time she had left a model unfinished for a show had been years ago, when she was just an intern. 

“It’s all right,” he gently pried his wrist out of her hand and replaced it with a business card, laced with an exquisite cursive that signed his name: _William Takuya Spears_.  “Call me.  We can meet later and maybe you can get some more practice.”  


	10. Smile for me Darling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Have I entered an alternate universe or did you really just crack a smile for me?”
> 
> Grelliam

“I don’t know what to tell you, Red.  I’ve never seen bossman crack a smile whole time I’ve known him,” Eric sighed, pulling at his hair.  

“I think the bloody realm’d implode if he did,” Ronald laughed.

“No one was asking for your opinion, pup!” Grell huffed, pushing at Ron’s chair with her heel and shoving him away several feet.  In seconds he was rolling his way back.  

“But you’ve been… involved… for years, how could you not know–” the redhead’s glare was enough to send Alan reeling into silence, for fear of later reprisals from a roaring chainsaw.  He’d rather the thorns to that madness.  

“I’ve tried everything, but the brute barely smiles even after lovemaking!  I’ve been a good girl and everything, getting paperwork finished on time, NOT going on murderous rampages, keeping receipts, I’ve even bought him gifts.”

“How about barging into his office wearing nothing but a neglige under that coat of yours?” Eric winked.  

“I got a reprimand for that one.  Well, and a lovely bit of punishment on that desk–”

“Well that’s just made me all sorts of uncomfortable about going into that office.  Ever.” Ron coughed hastily, suddenly finding a rather interesting spot on the ceiling to which he could devote his attention.  

“Honestly, have you ever seen a lazier bunch?”  

The sudden intrusion brought them all to attention, backs straightened, feet came flying off of desks, and ties and glasses were frantically adjusted to perfection.  

“Will!  We were just–”

“–paperwork!  We’re doing our papers, cheif, promise!” Eric grabbed the nearest sheet of paper from his desk and waved it above his head as proof of his good behavior.  

“And Grell Sutcliff and Ronald Knox?  The two of you are nowhere near your desks, I note.  Are you so eager for overtime work?”

“Like hell!” Ronald’s chair was whizzing away before another word was spoken, threat of overtime always an effective spur to his motions.  

“Well I just–well you know, I just thought I’d pick their brains a bit for umm… some… tips!  You know… oh but, don’t ask me what for, that’s impolite of you, Will.  A lady has her secrets after all, and just because I let you into my bed doesn’t mean I’ll–”

“BACK TO WORK!” Will screeched, sending Grell off at a mad pace back to her own cubicle, though not before she fell flat on her face at least once on the way.  “Honestly…” 

Eric watched out of the corner of his eye as William turned on his heel to return to his office, but not before he let out the slightest upward turn from the right end of his lips.  His green eyes met Alan’s, and the two of them whispered under their breaths,

“…sadistic bastard, isn’t he?” 

“Really no other word for it.” 


	11. That Predictable Coffee Shop AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was bound to happen sooner or later. Grelliam Coffee Shop AU.

It was hard _not_ to know the clientele who were regulars.  Each one always came in at the same time on a regular set of days, and usually always asked for the same thing.  There was the clumsy, frazzled student with pigtails who always tripped walking in on weekday mornings.  There was the polite Indian fellow who always came in and ordered two drinks, both soy, for himself and for someone else she never saw.  There was the elderly woman who came by on her afternoon walks and always asked for tea, never coffee, and cried about her husband Albert at least three times a week. 

And then there was him.

The gentleman with the perfectly tailored suit, neatly combed and parted hair, immaculate posture, and piercing green eyes.  Every afternoon, precisely at 12:25, he would walk in for his afternoon latte.  No sugar, no foam, almost no words.  He was curt, frank, never there to make conversation.  Out of all the regular clientele, he was the most consistent, the most unchanging. 

It was hard to say why Grell found him so intriguing.  Oh sure, he was handsome.  But there was another dark-haired, well-dressed gentleman who was practically even with him in that rank.  Nor was he exactly charming conversation-wise. 

She had been sure that all the world meant nothing to this man, and that nothing could incite him to passion. 

But Eric had taken care to note how he only said thank you when Grell was the one to make his latte.  How he lingered and cast frequent glances in her direction…

“I think he’s interested in you.”  Eric had teased.

Nonsense.  She scoffed just thinking about it. 

How in the world was a lady supposed to figure that out with hints like those?  The proper way to express interest would have been to bring her flowers, ask her name, introduce himself, make polite conversation, for heaven’s sake, _anything_!  Even with her glasses, she had to squint to see the signs. 

Okay, so he tended to stick around in the café longer if she were at the counter.  And yes, she had caught him sneaking in a few sideways glances.   And maybe she had seen him bristle at the sight of her touching Bassy’s arm and giving him coy smiles.  But it was all too subtle, too slow!  Was she really supposed to figure anything out from just that?! 

“It’s horribly rude to sneak glances at a lady like that, you know,” she remarked one afternoon.  He was taking entirely too long to make the first move. 

“Excuse me?”  he regarded her over his perfectly rectangular frames.  Goodness, the corners of those were as sharp as his jawline. 

“Instead of just staring, you should really try to make at least a little bit of decent conversation.” 

“I’m quite sure I don’t know which lady you mean.” 

“That’s a wicked fib.  Your eyes have been on me, sir, and don’t you think I haven’t noticed.” 

He looked at her in wide-eyed astonishment before he sputtered,

“I—I’m…” 

She watched him carefully and found herself more than a little amazed when he let out a little chuckle.  Oh, heavens that was a gorgeous smile. 

“Forgive me.  It’s true, you’ve attracted my gaze more often than I care to admit—“

She tried hard to hide how much that statement made her heart flutter.

“—but I had no idea you were a lady.” 

And on that afternoon, the Thorny Rose café very nearly lost one of its prized regulars.  


	12. Lips

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cheiloproclitic, Basorexia and Duende -“Being attracted to someone’s lips” “An overwhelming desire to kiss” “Unusual power to attract or charm”
> 
> Grelliam

“It is a reaper’s duty to carry out collections calmly, stoically, without passion or emotional interference.  Very rarely, a reaper may have to decide whether or not to prolong…”

Grell had very little interest in the practiced spiel of what a reaper’s duties were.  She had heard it many times as she accompanied William on his rounds with the young reaper fledglings.  Half the times she was actually assigned to follow along and instruct them, the other half of the times, she snuck away just so that she could be close to Will.  Even if she had no interest in the lecture, she loved hearing the sound of his voice.  

As his melodic voice drifted into her hears, her eyes fell on his lips as they spoke, pronouncing each syllable with precision.  As far as beautiful lips went, it’s not as if Will’s were particularly remarkable.  Men so rarely did.  Beautiful lips were meant to be lusciously plump, usually painted with a gorgeous shade of red… like Angelina’s had been.  And yet, despite their plain thinness, their slight lack of color, they were rather hypnotic.  

And with the right amount of coaxing from her own, she knew what they looked like swollen with feverish desire and panting out her name.  The thought made her tingle all over and she gave a somewhat inappropriate moan in the middle of Will’s speech about exceptional human life.  

“Grell Sutcliff, was there something you wanted to add?”  William’s tone was of mild irritation.  

“No, Will darling~ I was just thinking about how much I wanted to kiss you senseless.”  

William’s ears flashed a bright red as the recruits murmured between themselves and he gave a small cough before,

“Grell Sutcliff, if you’ve nothing to contribute, then go back to work immediately!”  

Giggling, Grell pushed her way past some of the young boys, grabbing Will’s tie and planting a very hot kiss on his lips before dashing off back to the dispatch floor.  


	13. Mamihlapinatapei

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mamihlapinatapei - “The look between two people in which each loves the other but is too afraid to make the first move.” 
> 
> Grelliam

A bruised and battered Grell sat miserably cradling her face in William’s office.  William was busy pacing back and forth, reciting the long list of all the violations she had committed with her murderous stint.  Every time her body ached with pain, she thought about how much vengeance she would need to exact on that handsome Sebas-chan.  But with every half-glance William shot in her direction while citing her misdeeds, her mind always wandered back to this one thought: _He came back for me_.

“And with all that, you’ll be lucky if they don’t decide to execute you.  Honestly, what were you thinking?”  

His eyes were softer than the harsh words that came from his lips.  There was concern there.  He had been frantic the days that she had been missing, and he was now more anxious about her sentence than she was.  But he didn’t understand _why_ she had done it.  Grell appreciated his concern, she truly did–it meant a lot coming from the cold division manager she had been adoring for a good century.  But she was also stubborn.  And currently very bitter.

“…you wouldn’t understand.  A man like you…”

A man like what?  She looked at the exemplary reaper before her and her words caught in her throat.  He was a man of rules and regulation. He was efficient and cold.  But his gaze at the moment was not cold. The way he had gone back for her and was now protecting her from immediate sentencing was not following the rules.  She saw the difference in his gaze and dared to hope she saw affection there.  But he wouldn’t admit it.  So she wouldn’t either.  Not right now.  Not when the pain of her wounds, both physical and emotional, was still so raw and fresh.  

“…thank you for coming to save me.”  she opted for gratitude instead of affection.

“…”  

Would he say it in her stead?

“…I was just doing my job.”  

…stubborn man.  


	14. Undress Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apodyopis & Gymnophoria - “The act of mentally undressing someone” and “the sensation that someone is mentally undressing you”
> 
> Grelliam

Looking around the office, it was obvious who followed the dress code most impeccably.  Grell’s eyes wandered from Eric’s loose and unbuttoned collar to Alan’s shoddy bolo tie (apparently the poor lad couldn’t tie a tie properly, though that was meant to be a secret) to Ronald’s dual-toned hair just barely within regulation.  And then there was dear William.  William with his perfectly straight band collar, his immaculate tie, and beautifully fitted suit.  

The thing about perfection was… there was an incredible Freudian desire to mar it.  Grell kept her gaze intently locked on William as he stood there talking to the General about boring things.  Bringing up a finger to her own bow, she playfully ran the ribbon through her fingers as she imagined slowly pulling off that gorgeous full windsor knot.  As William adjusted his collar to make it stand as straight as possible, she thought about what it would look like with her lipstick smeared across it, and how wrinkled she could get it when she fumbled with the buttons that held it secure.  

His hands moved from his collar to his jacket, pulling it shut and buttoning it up above the subtly patterned 5-button waistcoat, and Grell imagined ripping it back open, the buttons snapping off and clinking on the polished tile floor.  

She dared let a slow breath escape her lips as her eyes wandered ever further south.  Beneath the meticulously pressed slacks, she knew exactly what brand and color of boxers William liked to wear, and what exactly that region looked like when he was excited.  On the other side of things, there was that magnificently sculpted arse.  She knew exactly what it felt like in her hands, and she did so love grabbing it or smacking it when William was least expecting.  It never failed to get at least a little rise out of him.  

She bit her lip as she continued her silent appraisal and let out a breathy, “Will~” that she hoped he could hear from across the room.  

William, of course, had felt Grell’s eyes on him the entire time he had been speaking with the General.  He could detect that predatory stare that had locked its gaze on his person, and unconsciously, he found himself minutely adjusting aspects of his attire.  A small pull on the collar, a little straightening of his windsor, buttoning up his jacket…

“Spears, you’re a bit fidgety today.”  

“I just want to make sure I’m following the dress code precisely, sir.” 


	15. Sphallolalia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sphallolalia - "Flirtatious talk that leads nowhere"
> 
> Grelliam

The office of director William T. Spears was filled with the steady sound of a pen scratching on paper, and the steady tapping of an impatient foot by the door.  Every time the pen paused, so did the tapping.  But for every time that the pen resumed, the tapping got faster.  Eventually, the tapping turned into the sound of actual footsteps moving closer and closer to the desk.

“Will, darling, you do realize it’s time to clock out.”

“For the general staff, this is true.  However, I am burdened with extra paperwork I must finish.”   

“So you’re refusing to come to Ronnie’s party then.”  

“I don’t believe I ever agreed to go in the first place.”

“Oh Will dear.  Is this your shy way of saying you don’t like social functions?”  

“Shy had nothing to do with it.”

“So you’re staying behind because you want to spend alone time with me then?”

“Do you ever listen to other people when they speak?”

“Oh Will~ If you wanted to spend time with me, you could have just said so instead of being coy and staying cooped up in your office with nothing but the papers to keep you company.”  

“In case you’re going to tune in at any moment, let me remind you that I am ‘cooped up’ in here as a result of overtime paperwork.  Unsurprisingly, the extra paperwork is thanks to you.”  

“Mm… isn’t it though?”  

“…”  

“I’ll go get the bottle of wine from my bag to help us pass the time.”  

With a wink and subtle wag of her hips, Grell began to skip out of the office but had only just reached the door when she heard Will slam his hands on the desk behind her.  

“Grell Sutcliff.”  He was trying to keep his voice calm.  "Did you–“ 

"Yes dear?”

“Did you cause me extra paperwork on purpose?”  

Her grin stretched from ear to ear.

“Why, I don’t know what you’re talking about.  Why on earth would I deliberately cause extra trouble so as to land you with extra paperwork that I know would cause you overtime, causing you to be alone at the office on this particular day when everyone else would be gone early because of Ronnie’s party, leaving us the only two people on this entire floor?”  

William’s expression was unreadable, but it hardly mattered.  She knew what was coming as soon as he summoned his scythe to his hand and her coy smile immediately fell off her face.  

The floor of the London field division was soon filled with the clicking clacking sound of heels on the polished tile floors and the none-too-graceful screams of a certain redhead under pursuit.


	16. Surprises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> William's hiding something.
> 
> Grelliam

“He’s hiding something from me.”  

 

The comment was met with the sound of shuffling papers and a raised eyebrow.  Grell was pacing about the office, biting her nails (something she rarely did unless absolutely nervous) while her young coworker slumped over his impossibly large stack of papers.

 

“And how exactly would that involve me?”  

 

“You’re supposed to be a bit more sympathetic.”  

 

“Look, senior.  As much as I love you guys, I am not, let me be clear, not,  **absolutely not** getting involved in your love life." 

 

"What good are you to me then?”  

 

“I provide a charming presence and witty commentary.”  

 

Grell stopped her frantic pacing to throw herself dramatically into her chair, scattering papers about as she flung herself over her desk.  

 

“What’s got you so worked up anyway?  Boss seems the same as ever to me.”  

 

“You don’t know him like I do.  He’s avoiding me, and I’ve seen him hanging around General Affairs when he has no reason to be there.”

 

“I think you’re being bloody paranoid.”  

 

“For the record, I don’t find you charming at all.”  

 

“Doesn’t mean I’m not though.”  The boy flashed a cheeky grin as Grell scoffed and rolled her eyes.  "Just go and ask him what’s up.“

 

"What if he wants to break up with me?  What if he’s hanging about all those women because he fancies one?  I’m not going to be dumped, Ronnie, I’m not having it.”  

 

“Well then you can sulk about your imagined problems.  Or, you can go and ask Boss exactly what’s up.  It could be nothing at all.  And if he does fancy another dame, I imagine you’ll be causing the department some extra paperwork and removing a potential shag from my nightlife.”

 

Huffing, Grell glared at Ronald for a good half a minute, but she had to admit he had a point.  After another minute or two, she couldn’t sit still any longer and decided she might as well barge into William’s office to have a word.  She wasn’t about to be tossed aside like the floozies that Ronnie associated with.  William T. Spears would learn good and well that one did not toy with a lady’s heart.  Bursting in the door, she marched straight to his desk, slamming her hands down on his desk and glaring at him with all the menace she could muster.

 

“I demand to know who she is.”  

 

William continued about his work, not at all startled by the outburst.  After signing a neat signature at the bottom of the paper he had been working on, he calmly looked up at Grell and adjusted his glasses with cool precision before answering.

 

“As usual, I find it fascinating that you can spout gibberish while being completely awake.”  

 

“I’m being serious, Will.”

 

“That would be a first.  Would that you could be serious about something proper like your work.”  

 

“You’ve been avoiding me.  And I demand to know who the harlot is that you’ve taken a fancy to." 

 

"I’ve been led to believe you held a higher opinion of yourself than that.”  

 

Grell was growing impatient with the snark and the dodgy answers.  All of it screamed evasion from the truth and she reached out with one hand to grab his tie, pulling him closer.  She hissed through her razor-sharp teeth, narrowing her eyes dangerously. 

 

“Do you think me a fool?”

 

“I’ve made clear the answer to that question all along, I think.  But I should have given you more credit for your observational skills.  It’s true I’ve been a bit absent of late.”  

 

Grabbing Grell’s wrist harshly, William pulled himself out of her grasp, leaning back in his chair.  Before she could argue, he pulled open one of his desk drawers, pulling out a single red rose and an envelope and placing them on the desk in front of her to take.  

 

Grell found her anger immediately slipping away as she snatched up the envelope, ripping it open to find two tickets inside.  

 

“These are for–”

 

“ _La bohème."_  


 

Her brows furrowed in confusion at the gesture and with partial embarrassment to her own overreaction.  

 

"Honestly, Grell.  I do wish you would allow me some privacy without jumping to paranoid conclusions for it makes it rather difficult to surprise you.”  

 

“Surprise me…”  she repeated in a whisper, her hands dropping to her side.

 

“Happy anniversary.”  

 

She grabbed his tie once again, only this time there wasn’t a hint of malice to her actions.


	17. That Reaper, a soldier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shingeki no Kuroshitsuji featuring Commander William T. Spears and his less than stable but brutally efficient Lance Corporal Grell Sutcliff.

“Have you heard the rumors?”

“About Corporal Sutcliff?”

“They say he used to be a criminal before he joined the scouting legion.”  

“And that the Military Police would love to get their hands on him if they could.”  

“Fortunately, they can’t.  I, however, can certainly get my hands around a group of gossiping young recruits who ought to be cleaning the stables.”

“C-Commander Spears!”  

The young soldiers snapped to attention at the sound of a steely voice behind them, pounding their chests hard with their salutes.  When it was clear that they weren’t going to be given any reprimands, they scurried quickly away, content to clean horse shit than to catch the wrong side of Commander Spears’ wrath.  

Slow clacking boots clipped their way from around the corner after they had gone, and a cheshire-like grin gleamed from the shadows.  

“You didn’t need to be harsh, darling~ Nothing they said could be considered insulting.  Not to me.”  

“You might enjoy the slights against your person, but the implications held against you also reflect poorly upon the Legion.  And we’re hardly respected as it is.”  

“Let them talk.  Here, out there, inside the walls, let them whisper and jeer.  If need be, we can cut them all down.”  Grell cooed in a sultry whisper, sashaying towards the tall-standing commander, the belts hugging tight against his legs with every step.  

“Our blades are meant for titans.”  came the cold reply, unmoved by the lithe fingers pulling at his bolo tie.  

“As you say,” a soft whisper caressed Will’s neck as Grell pressed himself ever closer.  "But you know those dumb green unicorns had it coming.“  

"Whether they did or not, you’re not to do it again.  The enemy is out beyond the walls, not within.”  

“No one knows for sure, you know.”  

“In any case, you owe me a report from the last expedition.”  

“Then by all means, let’s both make our way to your office, where I’ll be happy to make full use of your desk.”  

“For the report?”

“Sure~”  


	18. Turn the Lights Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Lygerastia - “The condition of one who is only amorous when the lights are out." 
> 
> Grelliam

They somehow made it home in a tangled clash of arms and kisses and nibbles and bites.  One moment they had been kissing ferociously against the door _outside_ Grell’s apartment, then the next moment, they were dry humping against the door _inside_ Grell’s apartment.  Grell couldn’t even remember taking out her keys.  Had she left her apartment unlocked?  Oh, sod it all.  What did it even matter when she had a handsome man she needed to be undressing?  

Just as she began to rip open those insufferable buttons, William scooped her off her feet, carrying her to the bedroom.  Grell giggled and swung her legs with pointed toes as they dangled in the air from Will’s arms.  

Once in the bedroom, William dropped her unceremoniously onto the bed before resuming his attention in the area of her neck.  One hand began to move teasingly up her thighs and Grell’s eyes fluttered at the contact, but the mood wasn’t quite perfect.  

"Will, darling.  Turn the light out.”  she whispered heatedly into his ear.  

He proceeded as if he hadn’t heard a word, making quick work of her dress and running his hands roughly through her hair.  And while it was all deliciously frantic and exciting…

“Will… The lights.”  

He shut her up rightly with a kiss but as soon as his lips pulled away, there came yet another whispered plea.  

“…the lights…”  

Will rolled his eyes at the repetition.  

“Honestly, Grell.  What is even the point of that now?”  

He ground his hips into hers, eliciting a breathless moan, but she remained insistent.  

“Turn the lights out or it’ll spoil–nngh… it’ll spoil everything.”  

“I doubt that.”  William followed up his assertion with a nibble on her ear, making her squirm beneath him before he whispered.  "I want to see you.“  

Really, he was being so stubborn.  And while the sentiment was all very sweet, Grell had her preferences.  She knew she would have trouble enjoying herself if–if everything was visible.  

"William, please.”  Her tone was as firm as she could make it given her current situation, and she so rarely used William’s proper name.  

Will let out a resigned sigh, he knew when it was time to relent.  If Grell wasn’t going to enjoy herself, he would have trouble enjoying himself as well.  But he was also determined to have his way at least in part.  Pulling off his tie in one swift motion, he covered Grell’s eyes and tied it around her head, creating a makeshift blindfold, to which Grell found her entire body shuddering with anticipation.  

“Oh, Will…” she breathed as an unexpected kiss found its way to her nipple.  

That was certainly one way to handle the problem… 


	19. The Fume is made of Sighs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Capernoited - “slightly intoxicated or tipsy”
> 
> Grell and Eric (platonic)

“Love is a smoke and the fume is made–oops!”  

“Whoah there, love.”  

Eric managed to catch Grell just as her ankle gave way, her body tumbling into his arms in a mess of limbs and hair.  Her cheeks were flushed with a tinge of pink, her breath tinged with the smell of cherry wine.  She was giggling now, and she reached up with her arms to wrap them around Eric’s neck.  

“Art thou my Romeo?”  

She had a tendency to recite Shakespeare when she got inebriated.  It actually amazed Eric just how much of that she had committed to memory, the words floated off her tongue as if they were common everyday vernacular.  

“‘Fraid not, love.  If I were, I’d get someone to remove the poker from my arse posthaste.”  

“Hmm…” she murmured quietly, her head nodding off slightly as the giggles subsided.  "You could be.  Send not this lady so soon to her bed so empty, so cold.  Willst thou provide a single night’s warmth to a heart yearning for comfort?“  

Helping Grell to her feet, her heels clacking softly on the pavement, Eric gave her a wry smile as he offered her his arm.  

"You know the answer to that.”  

Grell pouted as she grudgingly took his arm, knowing her sense of balance was shot for the evening.  

“How dull of you.”  

“Not as the dull as the stiff you call Romeo.”  

“You don’t know him like I do.”  

“Could be because you’ve deluded yourself, Red.  

Grell gave a dramatic sigh in response.  Eric’s words got duller by the moment and she found them all too sobering for her liking at the moment.  It was sweet of him to walk her home and all, but did he have to be so boring and sensical?  

"The fume is made of sighs.”  Eric recited.  

“…what?" 

"Love is a smoke, and the fume is made of sighs.  Exasperated ones, in your case.”  

Smirking, Grell planted an appreciative peck on Eric’s cheek as she entered her apartment.  

“Maybe you’re not so dull after all.”  

“You’re not the only one who can wax poetic after some whisky and wine.”  Eric offered an affectionate kiss on Grell’s forehead in return.  "Call me whenever you want to get shit-faced.“  

And as Eric waved one arm as he walked away, Grell turned into her apartment, kicking off her heels haphazardly as she made her way to the bedroom.  Flopping down onto her fluffy red sheets, she murmured into her pillow as she drifted slowly to sleep, her mind conjuring images of a brilliant stage, a bespectacled Romeo with cold, green eyes and meticulously combed hair… 

"Let’s have one other gaudy night…”  


	20. Appearances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr drabble prompt: It's not what it looks like.
> 
> Slingphries

Collect the souls of the dead, review their records, pronounce judgment.  Discretely, diligently, stoically… their work was repetitive and monotonous.  At best, uneventful, at its worst, depressing—but not without its dangers.  Alan had killed his fair share of demons during his decades on the job, but this was different.  The pain that gripped him now wasn’t physical, not really.  It tore at his soul from the inside, clawing its way through his being… soothing and stabbing, full of rage and sadness—the weight of a lifetime pressing against his own existence, crushing it in a prickly grip.

He stumbled against the wall, leaning his full weight against the cold white, struggling to catch his breath.  His vision was swimming with memories that weren’t his own, with visions of a life that was never his.  Alan bit his lip and slammed his fist against the wall, choking down a sob with a groan of frustration.  How could he have let this happen?  

“Rough day?”

Familiar footsteps approached him, and Alan bowed his head, trying to will the pain away.  He didn’t want to let Eric see.

“Do you need to talk about it, or are we about to head out for drin—whoah, hey!  Alan!”

The brunette toppled suddenly into his arms, and Eric brought him carefully down to the floor, looking him all over for injuries, blood, maybe tattered clothing, but all he saw was the young reaper struggling to breathe, face pale.  

“Oh my god…” Eric whispered.

“It’s not what it looks like—“ Alan gasped, pressing a hand over his heart.  The pain was subsiding for now.  “It’s nothing, I’m just tired.”

“Alan, don’t bullshit me.”  

“There’s nothing anyone can do—“

“The thorns?!  Alan, tell me what happened!”  

“I don’t know!” Alan pulled away impatiently, scrambling clumsily to his feet.  “Maybe?! How would I know for sure?!” Except he knew.  It wasn’t fair of him to yell at Eric like that, he knew perfectly well what had happened and what he was in for now.  Slowly but surely the thorns of death would claim him, and he could say goodbye to his redemption, his immortal soul… Eric.  He was about to lose it all, and the tears came unbidden to his eyes.  

“Alan—“ Eric’s voice was gentler, and his gloved hands were reaching to cradle his face.  

“Why now?!” Alan choked out, trying to swallow the sobs that threatened to make his chest burst.  

Just when he was finally feeling like he had come into his own as a reaper… Just as he was being assigned to mentor young new recruits thanks to his experience and expertise—he had taken visits to the Academy at Director Spears’ personal recommendation!  He was finally doing Eric proud, he could finally call the two of them colleagues… and it was only recently they could call each other lovers.  From the start he had wanted to empathize with the humans whose lives he judged—wanted to know their pain and their sorrow.  Now he knew it.  He remembered the first soul he had collected with Eric, that young boy whose life was snatched away before he could live it to its full—he knew that frustration now.  And it was horrid.  

Quietly, Eric wrapped his arms around Alan, reaching up with one hand to press Alan’s head into his shoulder.  

“We’ll figure something out.  I’ll fix this somehow, I swear it.”


	21. Look at me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr drabble prompt: I've seen the way you look at me when you think I don't notice.
> 
> Grelliam

It was known throughout the whole of London Dispatch, nay, the whole of the United Kingdom that senior dispatch officer Grell Sutcliff was undoubtedly one of the best combatants in the field. Though the paper trail left much to be desired in terms of organization, punctuality, and order, her skills and… lethality were without doubt. Her body was honed to a razor’s edge—a marvel and a terror to those who had seen her in action—and her senses were sharper than the scythes they wielded. And this is how she sensed that a certain pair of eyes had been on her, ceaselessly, for every moment she spent in the office. 

Of course every time she looked his way, he averted his gaze elsewhere (to a stack of papers usually), and he’d miss the knowing smile that played on her rouged lips. 

“Eric, darling, can I confirm something with you?” she teased, leaning over her colleague’s desk. 

“What can I do you for, Red?” he pushed his chair out from under his desk and spun to face her. 

Immediately, she grabbed his loosely wound tie and leaned in close, her lips leaving the faintest trace of red on the reaper’s cheek. She pulled away from the kiss but kept him close, her hands still grasping the tie tightly.

“Appreciate the gesture, but shouldn’t you be headed to the Spears’ office if you want a little roughing?” 

She smiled and would have replied if the door of the aforementioned office hadn’t slammed open at that moment, out stepping a rather irate head of London dispatch. 

“Grell Sutcliff!”

She grinned and let go of Eric’s tie, sashaying slowly away from him but not before blowing another kiss over her shoulder.

“Oh I intend to do just that. Thank you~!”

Eric gave a knowing smile, raised eyebrows, before wiping the lipstick off his cheek with the back of his hand and exchanging a glance with Ronald nearby. 

Once they were behind closed doors inside the office, Grell threw herself onto her preferred target, grabbing William’s perfectly wound Windsor and planting a heated kiss on his cold, thin lips. She moaned into him and wormed her way closer until he pushed her away, biting his lower lip.

“Do you do these things simply to rouse me?” he bristled.

“What things?” she whispered, teasing. 

“You know perfectly well.”

“I just wanted to confirm something with Eric was all, love.” She snaked her arms up around his neck, letting one gloved hand run slowly through his meticulously combed hair. 

“And what might that something be?”

“That you, William my love, simply can’t take your eyes off me. Especially when you think I’m not paying attention. You think I don’t notice.” She leaned in close, her breath tickling at his ear. “But I do.” 

She guided his hands around her waist as she pulled herself closer to him, pressing their bodies together. 

“There’s no way I wouldn’t notice such an intense gaze upon me… Do you do that simply to rouse me?” she echoed his earlier question with a predatory grin, pressing her hips against his and making him intake a sharp breath. “Or is it simply that—“

He shut her up with a kiss of his own… one, two, then several more. All the while, he kept his gaze fixed on her every motion.


End file.
